


Shadows Hide

by EmeraldHeiress



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood Magic, Criminal Activities, Dark, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Murder, Non Consensual, Romance, Sexual Content, TEMPORARY Hiatus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-01 13:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldHeiress/pseuds/EmeraldHeiress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shadowed underground figure known only as the Bard takes interest in Athenril’s newest right hand, Marion Hawke. As she proves herself to him and the rest of Kirkwall’s extensive under world, her life takes a different turn.</p><p>Temporary Hiatus</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Credit goes to Wyl, author of 'Hurtled into Chaos', for several of the ideas I have used and twisted in this story. If you haven't read his work, he's on Fanfiction.net. I encourage everyone to read his amazing series and give him the love he deserves!
> 
> http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7182163/1/Hurtled-into-Chaos

**Part One**

 

**oOoOoOo*oOoOoOo**

_Well, this is interesting._ Varric thought as he processed the information he’d just heard. He absently waved away the lad who’d brought this little tidbit to his attention as he sat back to ponder it. _So, Athenril’s got herself a new girl. Competent, obviously. Fereldan. A real up-and-comer._ The dwarf mused. _This bears watching._

**oOo*oOo**

“MARION, GET DOWN!”

Hawke flattened herself to the cobblestone streets as soon as the cry of her sister rent the air. A split second later the coterie thug she had been dueling was engulfed in flames. He bellowed and flailed for a few moments before collapsing into a smoking pile.

“That was the last of them, I think.” Hawke smirked at her sister as she stood, brushing dirt from her leathers.

“Aye, sister. Good job with the leader. I’ve never seen you use that move before.”

“Had Riven teach it to me the other day. I’m glad I got the chance to use it.”

Bethany sighed, “So bloodthirsty. I worry about you sometimes.”

“As you should.” Marion joked.

“ _Sister_ -”

“Alright, alright.” Her face turned serious, “I just like a good fight. You know that. It’s the only time I feel like I’m actually _doing_ something.”

The mage’s face softened, “I know.” She bumped her sister’s shoulder as they walked, a comfortable silence stretching out between them. As they turned the corner, Marion suddenly shoved Bethany into an alcove and motioned for her to be silent as they hid in the darkness.

A few seconds went by and they saw a boy, no more than thirteen years, halt beside their hiding spot and look around puzzled. The elder Hawke reached out and covered the lad’s mouth, pulling him to her. He instinctively struggled, but she held firm, not harming him but definitely not letting him go.

“Calm down.” She hissed into his ear, “I’m not going to hurt you!” Slowly his struggles ceased and he went limp in her grip. She cautiously removed her hand, ready to slap it back over his mouth should he yell. Showing good sense, he refrained from doing so. “All I want to know is why you’ve been following me for the last two weeks.”

The boy winced, “I…uh… find you beautiful, milady?” The words rang false even to his own ears.

A low chuckled rumbled from her throat, “Nice try, stud. The truth, if you will.”

“The Bard has me following you. He’s heard of you and wanted to know if the stories about your talents were true. Mentioned something about offering you a job if they were.”

“Well… that was quick and thorough.” She was surprised. Often, it was like pulling teeth to get information, “Why so loose lipped?”

“Messere Bard says that our lives are not worth our silence. If we get caught, we’re to give up anything asked of us so we’ll be released.” His voice softened, “One lad was killed anyway. The Bard was none too pleased. Wiped out the entirety of the Black Bands. Since then, no one’s touched us.”

“So you just go around spying on people and no one bothers you?!” Her voice rose slightly in incredulity.

“Oh, no, milady. We’re really good at hiding. Not many even notice us. Once we’re spotted, though, we’re moved around.” The boy sighed, “It’s too bad. You’re actually interesting to watch. Not many are.” He stepped to the side a bit and turned to her as she released him.

“Well, you can tell your employer that if he’s going to have me watched, then I’d prefer someone I recognize. That way I can make sure you’re protected when we’re fighting. I’d still expect you to stay hidden from everyone else, of course.” She shot him a fond smile. “I’ve gotten kind of used to seeing you around.”

The boy brightened, “Of course! If it will keep me away from the boring Merchant’s Guild meetings, I’d gladly do so!”

She chuckled softly, “What’s your name, lad?”

“Adar, messere.”

She pressed three silver into his palm, “Go to your employer and tell him what I said, then buy yourself a treat.”

“So generous! Thank you, messere!” The boy took off into the night.

The surrealism of the encounter suddenly hit Hawke as she watched him disappear. “Did that… _actually_ just happen?”

Bethany giggled a bit behind her, “Yes, Sister. It did.”

The elder sighed, “Well, at least things in Kirkwall are never boring.”

“If he’s going to be watching us, we’d better keep Athenril from finding out. She’s likely to kill the boy.”

“I know. That was why I told him to tell this Bard fellow that he should send him back. While it might be easier to hide someone spying on us all the time with different faces, if we know him a little it would make a better lie.”

“Ah, we could call him a curious cousin or something, should he ever get caught.”

“Precisely… You ever heard of this ‘Bard’?”

“Can’t say that I have. Athenril hasn’t mentioned him, has she?”

“Not to my knowledge. Either he’s small time and insignificant, or incredibly good at hiding.”

“Well, let’s get these goods to Athenril before she sends someone of her _own_ after us. She’s not the most patient person.”

Hawke merely nodded and they, too, disappeared into the night.

**oOo*oOo**

The next day the lad was back, a bright smile on his face as he revealed himself briefly to let her know he was there. Hawke merely chuckled to herself, glad that Adar’s employer had taken her request seriously. He did the same everyday for the next two weeks.

Then he was gone.

By the noon hour, Hawke was completely distracted with worry. She hadn’t seen the lad all day, and he had usually shown himself in the early morn, when her days were just getting started. She tried to calm herself…tell herself that it might actually be a day off for him, that he might be playing somewhere with siblings or a dog.

It didn’t work.

Another hour drifted by as she methodically collected coin from those who owed Athenril. The smell of cooking meat drifted over and an idea came to her. Spending some silver on two pieces of roasted beef from a vender, she went looking for her usual tail. It only took about fifteen minutes, but each second felt like an hour.

She was growing fond of the boy dogging her footsteps at the behest of an unknown employer. When she finally did find him, it was perched atop one of the rooftops, the whole of Lowtown Bazaar spread out before him. He was leaning against the ledge, looking wistfully down at the milling people and din of merchants.

She stepped up behind him, “Sneaky.” He started and turned to her, a surprised smile lighting his features. “I thought you might be hungry.” She handed him one of the wrapped pieces of meat and sat down beside him.

“Well, when I realized you were going collecting today, I figured I’d save my legs and watch from here.”

“Smart plan. I had wondered where you had gotten off to.”

“Worried?”

“Not for a moment.” She fibbed, ruffling his hair.

“I’m always trying to learn to hide better. I want to be just as good as the Bard someday!”

“You know… I could help you with that…” She spoke, a smirk playing on her lips.

Thus the games began.

They made sport of it. Adar would hide instead of showing himself to her, and at some point during the day she would ferret him out with some sweet or other for them to share. Sometimes Bethany would join them, if the sisters were working together, but more often than not it was the elder Hawke alone. Athenril was always finding something else for the mage to work on. Some bit of magic that needed done.

Frankly, that was fine with Marion. She wanted her sister as far out of the line of fire as was possible.

One day, Adar arrived with a note.

 

_Hawke_ , it began simply.

_I hear you’re corrupting young Adar and teaching him better ways to hide. Shame on you for taking my job away from me._

_However, perhaps you should consider taking your own advice?_

_Red Iron’s been making some noise about you. Very favorable to my ears but not so much to theirs._

_Could use a show I suppose, thought I don’t much care for all the red._

_I wouldn’t advise taking any midnight strolls by the seaside._

_Bard_

 

Marion hmm’ed in thought as she tapped the note on her lips. So, the Red Iron was out to get her, then? This might call for some interesting tactics. Not the least of which would be hiding. She idly mused on the reasons this man might have for warning her but it wasn’t really that important. The pressing matter was the impending assassination attempt.

She really must be pissing people off if they wanted to kill her. Question was, is this a good thing or a bad thing?

The Iron knew that she was supposed to make a delivery to the docks at midnight tonight. Why not just change the meeting place or time? Might be hard to explain to Athenril… anonymous tip always seemed to work well with her, though.

Reaching into her satchel, she grabbed some supplies and penned a response. It was always polite to thank those who helped keep you alive

**oOo*oOo**

_The Esteemed Bard,_

_I’m tempted to ask about your sources but I’m afraid I already know. Especially considering I’m apparently corrupting one of them._

_Facts of the matter, if you’d do your job I wouldn’t be doing it in your stead, now would I?_

_I have to wonder what else you’re hearing about me._

_The bells of the dockside tower are beautiful to hear. It’s a shame I’ll miss them tonight._

_Many thanks for the gift,_

_Hawke_

 

Varric rolled his eyes. Not teaching his boys properly? Like he had _time_ with to teach all of them. Honestly, he mostly relied on the older lads teaching the younger the tricks of the trade. He had to say, though, since she had started that game with Adar, the boy had begun teaching the others. She had drastically increased the quality of his spies and she wasn’t even his!

_I wonder what she’d say if she knew_ …Varric pondered.

Then there was Adar himself. Almost every night when he came back for report, he was glowing with excitement. The crazy woman was always doing something worthy of retelling. The way he waxed lyrical and poetic, the dwarf was afraid he was spending too much time listening to his stories. There’s no way that she was as good as Adar said. If she was, she certainly wouldn’t be working for Athenril.

Then again, the rumors had said that Hawke was the only reason the elf had remained steadfast in the face of the coterie… Perhaps this needed a personal touch.

**oOo*oOo**

_I hope I never have to do that again_. Hawke thought as she collapsed into her bed in the barracks of Athenril’s headquarters. It had been a long night. It started out simply enough, a few deliveries, a few collections… Then everything had gone pear-shaped. The Guard had somehow gotten enough evidence to raid one of the warehouses. Ironically enough, the legitimate one. While there was no fear of anything being discovered there, it did send everyone into a bit of frenzy.

_“Maker, Aveline, if you’d wanted to see me, all you had to do was ask.” Marion teased the guardswoman as she followed behind others looking for smuggled goods._

_The red head had just rolled her eyes, “Official business, Hawke. No real time to chat.”_

_“Nothing else to do. It’s not like you’ll find anything.” Hawke shot her smirk._

_The guardswoman glared, “Got somewhere else we should be checking?”_

_“You wound me, messere!” Merion declared, dramatically holding a palm to her breast. “I would never be involved in shady dealings.”_

_Aveline snorted, “Keep telling yourself that, Hawke. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”_

The two had spent the rest of the search in friendly bantering. It was nice to relax for a tiny bit, knowing that someone had your back even while they were trying to clap you in irons. Marion knew Aveline was only trying to look out for her and her sister, though. The two had split Aveline’s payment into the city between them, as well as their own, under contract with Athenril for a year of service, so that she could be free to seek her own legitimate employment.

Marion knew that Aveline figured if she could get them arrested to spend some time in the goal then that was less time they’d have to work for Athenril. Hawke didn’t have the heart to tell her that it would just extend it… or that she rather liked her shady dealings, though she could do without the elf.

It was an odd sort of friendship, but Marion trusted Aveline to have her back in a way she couldn’t with most of the others under the elf’s service.

As soon as the frustrated guards had left the warehouse, a runner had come to inform them that their _other_ warehouse was under coterie attack. Taking the best fighters of the group already assembled, Hawke took off, bloodlust singing in her veins. She got halfway there before she remembered that that’s where Bethany was stationed that day. Putting on an extra burst of speed, she made it to the warehouse in record time, entering the fray as she stepped through the door.

_Duck. Thrust. Dodge. Parry. Slice. Stab. The motions repeated themselves endlessly and Marion fell into a kind of trance as she fought. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and her mind cleared of nothing but the weapons flying around the room and the blood on her blades._

_She caught sight of her sister, power thrumming around her and easily dispatching waves of enemies. Satisfied all was well, she thrust herself further into the fight, taking down three thugs with quick blades to their backs on her way to the leader of the gang. He turned at her approach and clumsily parried the blow she sent at his throat. The duel that followed had been pathetically easy._ Maker, where are the coterie getting these people?

_The survivors fled as soon as it was apparent their leader had fallen and their assault failed, leaving many injured and a few dead in their wake. The rest of the evening was spent patching everyone up. Bethany had been completely drained trying to heal those with serious wounds. She had gone home hours before Athenril herself finally showed up._

_The elf sauntered into the warehouse, looking displeased at the blood and mess around her before shooting Hawke a look. “What the hell happened here?”_

_“Coterie raid, Athenril.” She continued to dress the cut on a young man’s leg._

_“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”_

_Hawke’s shoulders stiffened and her gaze swung to the elf, “There was. A. Coterie. Raid.”_

_“Mind your tone, girl!” The elf sneered._

_Hawke mentally sighed and steeled her patience, her eyes cold. “My apologies,_ messere _. We’re all very tired and many of us were injured in the defense of your cargo. I mean no offence by my tone.”_ Six more months. Just six more months. _Hawke chanted inside her head. The elf’s superior attitude had always rubbed her the wrong way._

_Knowing that if she showed too heavy a hand she would lose many of her men, Athenril let the sarcastic honorific slide. However, Hawke would pay for it. “How many dead?”_

_“Five.”_

_“How many wounded?”_

_“Nine, including myself and my sister.”_

_“Yes, where_ is _your sister? She should be here healing my men!”_

_“I sent her home. She had healed all that she could and was drained to the point of_ exhaustion _.” Hawke’s tone was sharp, forbidding any insult to her sibling._

_Athenril arched a delicate brow, “I see. I suppose it falls to_ you _then to notify the families of the dead.” The elf dug into her purse and pulled out five gold sovereigns. “One to each family. No more.”_

_Hawke trembled with fatigue and rage but merely nodded, took the gold, and left before she put a blade through Athenril’s chest._

It had taken three hours to hunt down all of the families and tell them what happened. She finished each by handing over the sovereign (too little in her opinion) and telling them that their _fathers-husbands-mothers-wives_ fought bravely.

Her side ached fiercely where she had been hit with an arrow earlier, and her wrist was sore from a sprain. She should have had Bethany heal her, but the men had needed it more.

“Damnation!” She hissed as she realized that her leathers were still on and her wound undressed. Sitting up again was a painful process, but once she managed it she removed her armor and tunic. The wound looked fine, the blood that had been sluggishly flowing from it having cleaned it out. Grabbing some bandages, she slowly wound it tightly around her, putting pressure on the puncture and stemming the flow. Too exhausted to do anything more, she shucked her leggings and pulled the blanket over her head, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

**oOo*oOo**

Marion leaned against the wall of a dirty back alley in Darktown. Her skin was pale from pain and exhaustion, her eyes glassy. She’d reopened the wound in her side taking down the poachers for Athenril’s Antivan wine. Mentally, she was kicking herself for never having the wound properly seen to, but everything else had seemed more important.

Now here she was, running on three hours of sleep thanks to Athenril’s punishment, with a newly opened wound seeping blood in the middle of the worst section of Kirkwall. No one could tell you that the elf’s reprimands weren’t effective, that’s for sure. It had been a week since her sarcastic remark and she was still paying for it. Being sent on missions with no back up and on little sleep was certainly a way to curb the urge to be disrespectful. If by exhaustion alone.

At least, the elf was smart. She didn’t want to lose her investment by sending Hawke against anyone she wasn’t sure the rogue could handle, even if barely.

_Perhaps I’ll just rest a moment_ , Hawke thought as she allowed herself to slide down the wall into a seated position at its base. Then, she knew only darkness.

**oOoOo*oOoOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/8469.html?thread=30736405#t30736405 I took some liberties with Anders’ arrival in Kirkwall. I hadn’t realized it until it was already done, but it worked well enough in my opinion, so I’m claiming artistic license.
> 
> Oh, if anyone knows or has a link to the Thedas months and days of the week, I’d be very appreciative for the info. I’ve used modern marks of time in a couple of places as I had no others to go from and I couldn’t find the correct ones.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

 

**oOoOoOo*oOoOoOo**

“I think she’s waking up!” A flurry of activity to her right side and a young voice.

“About time, too. She was out for a while.” A low response came from further off.

“Will she be alright, messere?” She knew that young tone.

“Calm down, lad, she’ll be fine.” That one was drawing closer.

She really wish they’d just shut up, her head was pounding. Come to think of it, where was she? Her instincts began to scream danger and she tensed, ready to go for her daggers. Then, taking mental inventory of herself, she calmed. If whoever had her had wanted her dead, she’d already be there. If she’d been captured, then she sure as hell wouldn’t have her blades still attached to her hips where she could feel their weight.

She opened her eyes and immediately groaned at the bright light of mid-afternoon sun shining through the cracks in the shabby ceiling. She turned her face away and waited for her eyes to adjust, the stabbing pain her head slowly becoming bearable.

“Good afternoon, Serah Hawke.” She looked up again to find rather rugged looking blond man standing over her. She blinked at him blurrily as she took in the details around her. There were a few cots like the one she was apparently laying on neatly distributed against the walls of the run down…clinic? A desk stood in the corner of the room, and a few shelves against the back wall.

The man himself wore threadbare, patched mages’ robes. They must have been handsome at one time but the golden shade had faded from many washes, leaving them a bland dark yellow, and the feathers on the shoulders looking limp. _This must be the healer I’ve heard rumors of._

“Afternoon.” She managed, groggily, to return the greeting.

“Miss Marion! I was so worried!” She looked over to see Adar, his face pale from previous concern but his blue eyes relieved.

“I’m guessing…” Her voice was rough, “That I have the both of you to thank for being alive.” She made to sit up and both men rushed to assist her. Batting them away, she realized that for the first time in several weeks she felt no pain, save for her head. There was always some healing injury from working under Athenril.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and ruffled Adar’s hair, a small smile quirking her lips. “It’s rather handy, having you watching my back.”

“I’m not really supposed to…” He bit his lip, “but oh, Marion, I just _couldn’t_ let you die on the street like that! Not after you’ve been so kind to me!”

“Calm down, lad. We’ll speak of this later.” She said, her eyes flicking to the mage and back to the boy. He nodded, chastised. Marion turned her attention to the man. “Thank you for healing me, serah. How may I repay the favor?”

The man shrugged, “Well, if you’ve anything to spare: coin, herbs, potions and the like, then I could certainly use it. However, I’m well aware many people don’t have excess, so no real charge.” He smiled a bit, “If you had had potions, I imagine you wouldn’t have needed my services anyway.”

She offered him a small wry smile, “I’m afraid you’d be correct. However,” she stated, “should you need a favor or two, all you need do is ask. I pay my debts, serah.”

“Oh, forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Anders. I am, obviously, a healer.” He blushed a bit, realizing his lack of etiquette.

“As this one has doubtlessly told you, I am Hawke.” She stood and shook his hand. “You have saved my life, Anders. It is a debt I will not forget.”

The man shuffled his feet as though embarrassed, “All in a day’s work, I assure you. Nothing I haven’t done before. Next time, though, when you get hit with a poisoned arrow, it would be best to come to me _first_.”

She blinked, “Poisoned? Well that explains why it wasn’t healing properly.”

“Indeed.” He smirked at her a bit, “Just a mild one, to keep it from healing, as you said.”

“Still…I owe you. You know my name and I live in Lowtown, so you can send me a message anytime you’d wish to call it in.” She grinned mischievously, “As long as it’s nothing too outrageous… like assassinating the Viscount.”

The mage chuckled nervously, “No, I’d never call in a favor like that.” He paused in thought, “I might ask you to collect some herbs for me, though. Being what I am, it’s dangerous for me to leave my clinic very often.”

She nodded solemnly, “I understand.” She turned to Adar, “We should probably get going. You and I still need to have a chat before I head back to where we’re supposed to be.”

The boy grinned up at her, happy to see her in top condition again and grinned, “Yes, we should. Neither of us reported in last night.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh, bugger! I hadn’t thought of that!” Athenril would be furious… She turned to Anders again, thanked him, and left with Adar dogging her heals.

When they had travelled far enough away from the clinic (a mere two blocks, she noticed, from where she had fallen) she motioned the boy aside to a relatively quiet alcove.

“Thank you,” she started, “for saving me. I was more wounded than I had believed.”

Adar shuffled his feet and looked down shyly, “I couldn’t just let you die there, Marion. You’re kind of like a big sister to me.”

She smiled fondly and ruffled his hair again, “What does your employer think of that?”

He chuckled, “He grumbles and growls a bit but I think he approves. He knows you’re keeping me safe and looking out for me. Though he wonders why you’re letting me watch you.”

“I figured if not you, then some other lad. Besides, it’s not like you’re catching any of my boss’s secrets just watching me. I know you’re not following me into buildings and meetings, but observing from outside.”

“True enough, that.” He smiled up at her through his bangs.

“Here,” she spoke as she drew a shiny gold sovereign from her belt pouch, “I want you to take this.”

His eyes widened, “Oh, _no_ , milady! I could _never_!”

Marion stared down at him, firm, “You can and you will. I know who it was who fetched the healer. I can only repay him in favors, but I want you to have this.”

He shook his head, showing a confidence that belied his years. “Honestly, milady, the Bard pays well! I could never take that from you. You need it more!”

“Adar…”

“I cannot.” He spoke, “You’re already showing me what you can. That’s already increasing my wages from the Bard. He values skill and wit above all else. Thanks to your teachings, my mum and little brother are eating well for the first time in years. That’s payment enough for me.”

She sighed, “Well, at least let me buy you dinner tomorrow.”

He chuckled and nodded before cheekily answering, “As you wish, milady.”

“Brat.” She muttered fondly, “Off with you. Go report in.”

He hesitated for a moment, looking at her curiously, before darting in and giving her a quick squeeze. After, he turned and ran off into maze of Darktown’s streets, leaving her dumbfounded. Shaking her head and muttering about overly fond street urchins, she turned towards Lowtown and set her shoulders. Facing Athenril was not going to be fun.

**oOo*oOo**

She was right. Athenril was _pissed_. Not just at the late report, but that Hawke had been stupid enough to get wounded in the first place.

“Just how incompetent do you have to be to almost die from a week old wound?!” she shrieked.

Marion winced at the high pitch, “The arrow had been _poisoned_ , Athenril.”

“I suppose that you never thought to check for that, did you?” The elf sneered.

“No, I can’t say that I did.” She replied wearily. “I’ve never met anyone with poisoned blades before.”

“Well, welcome to the real world! People coat their blades all the time! I’d have thought someone like you would have known that! We don’t fuck around down here in the dirt, _milady_ , we fight to win!” Athenril snarled “I thought you knew that. Perhaps you need more time on the nights. You’ll get plenty of experience with poisoned blades, then, as they sink into your flesh wielded by coterie assassins!”

The rogue clenched her fists. It wasn’t the first time Athenril had implied that she was too soft. She supposed in some ways it was true. After all, was she not protecting a boy sent to spy on her every day? In other ways, though… “I’ll just have to start poisoning mine, then, shall I?” She remarked, sardonically.

“Not a bad idea.” The elf shot her a cool look. At least she wasn’t in a rage anymore. “The next time you fail to report in at the specified time, your sister will pay for your ineptitude.”

Marion snarled, her hand going to her daggers, “You leave her out of this!”

Athenril’s guards drew their weapons, but the elf was unperturbed. “Then do your job! You are _mine_ for the next six months…to do with as I please. I _own_ you, Fereldan.”

“No one _owns_ me! You _employ_ me!” She forced herself to take her hand of her blades, knowing she couldn’t take on the heavily armored warriors.

The redheaded smuggler lord leaned back in her chair, a calculating eye roving over the other woman. “We’ll see about that. You’re on night duty for the next three weeks. Check the roster in three hours.”

Marion ground her teeth and glared through her black bangs, “ _Yes, Athenril_.”

The elf opened her mouth again, but Marion whirled around and left the office without waiting for a dismissal, knowing it was going to cost her. She didn’t care. One more second with the snotty elf would have seen Marion launching herself at her, no longer concerning herself with the guards.

She stomped off in the direction of the barracks. Healing sleep or no, she was still tired and if she was to stay up all night watchful of poachers or assassins, she’d need the sleep. Whispers of her name caught her ears and she slowed to a stop, straining to hear.

 _“Hawke went into Athenril’s office an hour ago and hasn’t come out yet.”_ A deep voice commented.

 _“You think she’s in trouble?”_ A female voice replied.

 _“She’s always in trouble. Athenril hates the disrespect.”_ A rumble came from the first speaker.

 _“The elf doesn’t deserve the respect. We’re nothing but tools to her!”_ A third complained

 _“Shhh!”_ The voices quieted at the chastisement from the female and Marion stepped a little closer. _“The bitch might hear you! She’s got ears everywhere! Hawke already takes a lot of the blame for us, do you really want her to take the blame for this?”_

Chastened, the third replied, _“No. She would make a much better boss, though. She’s tough and knows what she’s doing.”_

 _“And you can tell that she cares what happens to us.”_ The first voiced.

_“I heard she gave the families of those lost in that last coterie raid two extra sovereigns apiece!”_

_“That’s stupid, how could she afford that?”_

_“That’s just what I heard! She probably took it from Athenril.”_

_“She’d be dead if she took it from Athenril. Debt or not.”_

_“What about that sister of hers, the mage?”_

_“What about her?”_

_“I heard Athenril’s got plans for her. Young virgin flesh like that. Worth a pretty penny to the right customer.”_

_“Hawke would never stand for that. She’d kill Athenril.”_

_“Not if she kills her first. The money she’d make off of the sister would almost be worth it.”_

_“Worth losing the only person holding off the coterie?! I highly doubt that!”_

_“I heard her talking about it with Wilkins the other day! You know, the one that handles her whores…”_

_“Yes, I know who Wilkins is…”_

_“Well, he said that there were potions that could be used to make an unwilling maiden quite willing. And ones to make them forget. If she can’t remember, she can’t tell her sister.”_ Marion’s nails dug into her palms as a wave of rage flooded over her.

_“Hawke’s not exactly a slouch; she does have her own ways of getting information! That’d be suicidal! Everyone knows she puts her life out for her sister!”_

_“That might be Athenril’s plan, too, you know. Something to hold over her. Keep her in her place.”_

Someone snorted, _“Her place is_ in _Athenril’s. That’s what the elf’s afraid of. Hawke’s good enough to take over the whole operation provided she’s got the manpower. I think most of us, though, would gladly go with her.”_

_“True… Should we warn Hawke?”_

_“We’ll give a week. Talk to some of the others; see if we can confirm the rumor. Then… perhaps.”_

 Footsteps began to draw closer and Hawke quickly made her way to the barracks and her bed. _So… That was Athenril’s plan, was it?_ Blood pooled from the crescents in her palms where her nails sunk in. _Shit_. How was she going to keep her sister safe from this? It’s not like she could keep Bethany from working, thanks to the damned contract. They were assigned apart enough that Marion wasn’t always going to be there to watch her back and keep it from happening.

She ignored the rest of the conversation. She wasn’t planning on a coup, though it was nice to think she’d earned the men’s loyalty. She just wanted to work out her time and move on to something else. She liked the shady dealings and intrigue, but keeping her sister alive was more important and illegal smuggling was almost as dangerous as it came.

She napped fitfully, the information she had gleaned weighing heavily on her mind even in sleep.

**oOo*oOo**

“You alright Hawke?”

The woman started. She’d been quietly lost in her thoughts the last couple hours, mulling over the information she had heard earlier. Mentally chastising herself for not paying attention, she looked to her partner for the night.

“Fine, Riven.”

The dark haired man arched an eyebrow, “You’re quiet tonight.”

She tried to smirk, “I’m not allowed to be quiet?”

“No.” He deadpanned. “Not unless it’s necessary, which considering tonight’s assignment, it’s not.”

“Just have a few things on my mind.” She sighed, giving up the act.

“Everything alright at home?”

She snorted, “I’m never there. I can’t stand Gamlen. He’s always ogling me, and Mother’s always complaining. Like I’m not out here risking my life to keep us fed.”

His gaze turned sympathetic. “My wife was like that. Never got a job of her own, oh no. Too proud to do other peoples ‘dirty work’ she said. Boy, did she nag me, though, whenever I came home. It was never enough for her.”

“Mother’s not quite like that, but she fights with Gamlen often. What happened to your wife?”

The man chuckled, “Ran off with the baker next door. Best thing that ever happened to me. Our families are the ones that wanted the marriage, not us.”

Hawke laughed as well. “I suppose so! I wish Gamlen would run off. Creepy bugger.”

Rivan turned solemn brown eyes to the woman, “He made any moves? I’ll gladly set him straight for you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, she didn’t realize he cared. “Not that I know of. Not to me, at least. I couldn’t say the same for Bethany, but I know he’d never touch her with Mother there and Beth’s never in the house if she isn’t.” Her face turned cold, “I appreciate the thought, but if he ever does make a move on either of us, then I’ll gut him myself.”

The man nodded and turned back to watch the area again. Quietly, he asked, “I heard some of the argument between you and Athenril earlier. What did you do this time?”

Bitterly, she replied, “I didn’t report in on time because I got hit with a poison arrow and the wound reopened today during that poacher fight. Passed out afterwards.”

“You’re alright, now?”

“Better than I have been in a long time. Woke up in a healer’s clinic.”

Rivan chuckled softly, “You have the most amazing luck, sometimes. Anyone else would have died there, robbed of their coin and armor.”

“What can I say?” A cocky smirk across her lips, “The Maker favors me.” She pulled a deck of cards out of her pocket. “Care for some Wicked Grace?”

He flashed her his own wicked smile, “I’ll beat the pants off you, girl.”

She laughed, “We’ll see about that, old man.”

**oOo*oOo**

“Marion!”

Hawke turned tired eyes to her approaching sister. She barely mustered up a warm smile for the young woman. “Bethany.” They embraced; the elder Hawke tightened her arms and suddenly realized how much she missed her family.

“Mother’s worried sick over you. None of us ever see you anymore.” Bethany’s worried brown eyes bore into Marion’s green. She was right. It had been several weeks since she’d seen anyone other than Bethany and even that had been for just a short time.

“I’m sorry, little sister. Athenril’s kept me so busy… and you know I sleep over at the barracks. Better not to cause contention in the ranks.” She muttered.

“Stop that. You know Mother loves you.”

“Mother blames me for Carver. Maker, I blame me for Carver.”

“You shouldn’t.” Bethany stated with conviction. “She doesn’t really, either. She’s just grieving. You should at least come home for dinner tonight so she can see you’re alive.” The younger Hawke pleaded.

“Beth, I’d love to, but Athenril has me on night duty the next three weeks.” Bethany wilted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Marion groaned, “I’ll try to drop by for breakfast tomorrow morning, alright?”

The smile she got in reply was answer enough. “You’d better be there.”

“I’ll try. That’s all I can promise.” The mage opened her mouth to retort but Marion just held up her hand. “You know how Athenril is. That’s all I can promise.” The girl sighed and nodded. The rogue’s voice dropped, “Be very careful the next few weeks, little sister. Keep that extra dagger in easy reach and never take your hands off that staff. Do not trust Athenril or _anyone_ else.”

Bethany shot her a worried look, “What’s-”

“Quiet. I’m taking care of it. No questions, just do as I say.”

Chastened, she replied softly, “Yes, Sister.”

“Good.” Marion hated to pull rank on her sibling like that, but there was no way she telling her about the latest threat to her safety. Andraste’s tits, Bethany was going to keep every last ounce of innocence she had left if her sister had anything to say about it. “How’s Reaver doing?”

“Misses you, like the rest of us. Barely does anything but eat and sleep anymore. You should really come by to see him. Maybe take him out with you sometime.” Reaver was Marion’s war hound. A purebred Mabari if there ever was one. He’d imprinted on her when he was just a pup and she was ten years old. Luck or fate was yet to be decided. “He’s not meant to be cooped up in a house all day.”

“I don’t want him hurt. You know the kind of trouble I get into.” Marion missed the dog something fierce. He’d always been her constant companion.

“Sister, he’s a _war hound_. You’ve trained him yourself! He needs fresh air and exercise… He’s wasting away without you.”

Marion winced, “Damn. I… I’ll get him if I make it to breakfast. Athenril be damned. He’ll just have to stay out of her sight.” Suddenly she knew that there was no way she was missing the mealtime. Her family was precious but could mostly take care of themselves. Reaver was another matter. He _needed_ her. Maker, sometimes that imprint bond was disadvantage. She didn’t want him hurt!

The bell tower dockside tolled the hour and Marion groaned. “I’ve got to go. Remember what I said. Be _vigilant_ , Bethany.” The youngest Hawke nodded and they parted ways. The eldest to the barracks and Bethany to whatever her day’s assignment was.

**oOo*oOo**


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**  

 

**oOoOoOo*oOoOoOo**

“What are we doing here, again?” A voice hissed from beside her.

Absently, Hawke replied, “Trying to get a jump on that coterie attack. Now, _be quiet!_ ” There were some mutters and grumbling behind her but they tapered down and she turned her attention back to the courtyard in front of her. The coterie were apparently trying to assassinate one of Athenril’s best customers. Hence the midnight guard duty with three restless men.

The plan was to put a decoy in the courtyard and wait for the assassins to make a move, then her group would come barreling from hiding and take out their competitors. In theory, it was sound. However, Marion was sure there was a leak somewhere in the ranks. That was why she had three of her best men stationed as guards with the actual target.

A rustle near the fountain had her reaching for her blades. Keeping a keen eye open… sure enough five men robed in coterie black and red were creeping towards the decoy. Her fourth was dressed in Hightown style on the bench no more than ten feet from her group’s cover. The men behind her reached for their blades but she held up a closed fist, halting them.

If they attacked now, the assassins would scatter when she needed them _dead_. She watched as they closed the distance to their target. Thirty feet. Twenty-five. Fifteen. _Now!_ She threw her arm forward and her men unsheathed their blades and attacked, catching their victims off guard.

The decoy tossed aside her velvet cloak and withdrew her own glinting blade, assaulting the nearest enemy. Hawke’s blood began to sing as she the ring of clashing steel surrounded her and she barreled into the battle. She ducked behind one of coterie dueling her men and easily sunk her blade into his back. Straight through his heart.

She whirled over to her next victim, slashing his throat as he parried a sweep by Riven. Then, she slipped her blade from between his ribs and watched him crumple to the ground. She twirled to avoid a sword and kicked her attacker’s knee from behind. Grabbing his hair as he fell, she gave him a wicked smile and bloody grin from ear to ear.

It was over too quickly, in her opinion. She’d taken out three herself, her small group of four taking out the other two with no issue. Blood still pumping heavy through her veins and hearing the song of battle she forced herself to calm. All was quiet around her. Five coin purses her dumped into her hand, and her men looked over the now forsaken weapons.

She emptied the leather pouches into her hand and counted. Eight sovereigns and fifty six silver total. She took four of the sovereigns for Athenril, placing them in a single pouch, and evenly distributed the rest to the other four. That done, she tossed each of her group a bag. “Look at this, all they had on them were four sovereigns. The coterie aren’t carrying much on them, these days.” She said airily. Her group chuckled and the pouches quickly vanished from sight.

Turning serious, she inquired, “Anyone hurt?” No one raised their voice. “Good. Let’s get back to base. You know the procedure.” No one spoke as they all slipped out of the courtyard in different directions, fading into the night. Marion smirked at the efficiency of her group and slunk into an alleyway, herself.

Ten minutes later, she hefted herself up onto the roof of a Hightown estate and sat down beside one of the others under her command for the night. “All’s well?”

“Aye, Hawke. It is now, anyway. You were right. We’ve got a leak somewhere.” The woman nodded briefly in the direction of the estate next to where they were seated. “About a half hour ago, the coterie attacked his lordship beneath us, but we took care of them before he even knew it. He’s still sleeping like a babe, never even aware of the danger he was in.”

Hawke snorted, “Stupid nobles. Can barely wipe their own arses without a houseful of servants.”

The other woman snickered, “I know.”

“Anyone hurt?”

“Not a scratch.”

“Good. Decoy mission was a success as well. Took down five of the bastards. Keep whatever these men had to yourselves, split evenly among you if you would. I’ve got Athenril’s share of the loot.” Marion jingled the coin purse with Athenril’s sovereigns in it. “You all are relieved for the night. Get some rest, Nora.”

“Thank you, messere, I think I will. I’ll tell the rest of the lads, and we’ll be off.” Nora rose to her feet, “Be safe, Hawke.”

“You too.”

Marion remained seated as the other woman gathered her pack and signaled to the others. Within a minute, she was alone on a rooftop in Kirkwall. She looked down at Hightown spread out before her and sighed. She wished she could afford to buy back the Amell state for her mother. She hated that her family was stuck down in the squalor in Lowtown and her mother’s maiden name sullied by her horrid uncle. They may never have been well off, always on the run from Templars, but they had always been clean and had food. The Hawke name had never seen dishonor.

The soft sound of padded feet came from behind her and she tensed before recognizing the steps. “Adar. What are you doing here?” She smiled a bit and turned to face the boy.

He smirked at her, “Had to see the fight! You were amazing!”

She blushed and chuckled, “Not really. Not like the coterie have competent assassins. They don’t train well, it seems.”

“With as many as you’ve been going through, lately, they probably haven’t had time.” He settled down next to her and removed a pack from his shoulder. “I’ve something for you. From the Bard.”

“Oh?” She arched a brow in bemused curiosity. “Another warning?”

“I guess you could say that.” Adar shot her a sardonic smile as he pulled a midsized wooden box from his bag and handed it to her along with a rolled up scroll tied with green ribbon.

She snorted and unrolled the message.

_Hawke,_

_It’s called a healing potion. Learn how to use them._

_In case you need instructions, I’ve provided them._

_1._ _You’re bleeding._

 _2._ _Grab potion bottle._

 _3._ _Uncork bottle._

 _4._ _Drink whole potion._

 _5._ _Bleeding stops._

_Simple enough, even for you._

_I would really hate to see the most entertaining thing to enter Kirkwall in years die from a simple arrow and stubborn pride._

_I’ve included some samples for you, in case you’ve never seen a health potion before and have no idea what they look like. I’d be willing to supply them to you, for a fair price, when you run out of these. Just ask Adar, should you decide to take me up on this. He’ll take your order._

_Also, you’re bloody sister is a mage for a reason. Presumably to heal your stupid arse after you done some ridiculously idiotic stunt._

_You’re not in Fereldan, anymore, honey. Time to put on the big girl smalls._

_Self sacrifice is boring, no matter what you grew up hearing._

_The Bard_

 

Marion blinked and a slow chuckled rumbled up through her chest _. Big girl smalls… really_. She turned to the box and lifted the lid. It appears her mysterious benefactor hadn’t lied...not that she’d expected him to. There were several small vials of healing potion nestled in the packing straw. Along with two vials of anti-venom and five stamina drafts.

She sifted through, looking at each glass vial. The health potions were about the length of her middle finder and about half again as thick, the ruby liquid inside glinting in the moonlight. The stamina drafts were the same size, golden in color. The violet anti-venoms were smaller, thumb sized. She reached the bottom of the box and pulled out a beautiful belt.

Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the well crafted leather. It was textured… _no_ … it was stitched with the geometric designs of the Dwarven crafters. Birds in flight. She looked closer… _hawks_ in flight, to be precise. Evenly distributed around the bottom half of the wide belt were holsters just the right size for the potion vials.

 _I can never repay this man for this_. She thought, running her hands reverently over the supple leather. It was a practical, beautiful, _expensive_ gift. She wondered what he wanted in exchange.

She looked to Adar, who was politely looking away. “I don’t suppose you have any parchment or ink with you, do you?”

He did.

She penned a reply with effusive gratitude and a tentative inquiry as to the price. She sealed it with the same green ribbon and handed it back to the teen. “Tell him… tell him it’s an amazing gift and I love it.”

The boy grinned. “Of course, Marion.”

She ruffled his hair, realizing it was becoming a thing, and said, “You should go home. It’s late, and I’ve more errands to complete. The night’s not safe for you, even in Hightown.”

“But-”

“No buts. _Go_. Sleep well and stay safe.”

The boy sighed, “Yes, Marion.” He gathered his bag and sent a mournful look at her before climbing down from the roof.

She snickered at the put on look he had had on his face and rose, strapping the new belt around her waist, slipping the vials into their place and the note into her coin pouch. There were just the right amount of potions to fill every niche. She smirked. She really hadn’t expected anything less. She gathered the box. It was empty, but perhaps it would be a good place for keepsakes.

It was time to report back in to Athenril.

It was a brisk twenty minute walk to the elven woman’s base, doubled by back tracking and sticking to the shadows. When she arrived, Athenril was speaking to the three Hawke had sent to guard the estate with the other four milling around behind them, her back to the door as well as her guards’ eyes.

“Milady.” One of the even warriors interrupted, “She’s returned.”

Athenril turned flashing eyes on Hawke immediately. “Explain yourself, Hawke!”

Marion arched a brow, “What, precisely, needs explaining?”

“You deliberately went against my orders and separated the task force I gave you! Not only that, but you arrive an hour after _both_ parties have returned!”

Hawke drew up her hands in surrender, seeing the elf finger the hilt of her blade. “I hypothesized that there would be more than the one attempt, and I was correct. Something I believe it would be best to discuss in your office. As for my tardiness, I had to mop up a few loose ends before coming, and cover a few trails.” The truth, though not the whole one.

“You do not order me around, _girl!_ ”

“I wasn’t trying to. Merely a… friendly suggestion.” Marion’s eyes darted around the room, finding many of her soldiers of the night glaring at the elf’s back.

Athenril jerked her hand in the direction of her office. “ _Go_. Before my patience runs out. I’ll follow you.” Marion nodded and took off down the hallway, hearing the woman shriek to the crew, “ _Well?!_ What are you all looking at? Go home!”

Wincing at the pitch, Hawke opened the door to the smuggler lord’s office and insolently draped herself over the chair provided. A few moments later, three pairs of footsteps heralded the approach of the elf and her contingent. She blew through the room like a whirlwind and gracefully sat herself in the gaudy chair she treasured as her throne.

“Did I tell you to sit?” She snapped, seeing the position Hawke had arranged herself in.

“Do I care?” The woman muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose to hold off the impending headache.

“I will have you beaten for your lack of respect!”

Marion’s eyes snapped open, “You will leave me _alone_. I do your dirty work, I kill your enemies, I collect your gold, I train your men! You treat me like I’m nothing but filth on the street and you expect me to watch my _tone?_ ”

“I _own_ you. More than that, I own your _sister!_ ”

With no thought involved, Hawke was on her feet. “Let’s talk about that.” Her voice low and deadly. “I’ve heard some rumors going around about your… _plans_ for my sister. That you _plan_ to drug her and sell her virginity to the highest bidder.”

Athenril smirked icily, “What of it? It _is_ my _right_.”

“It is _not_ your right, bitch! We had a deal!” Marion’s eyes blazed with fury.

Athenril picked up a paper from her desk and read, “What was that again? Oh, right, service and loyalty to me for one year in any way I require it from both you and your sister to pay off your debt for you two, your mother, and your soldier friend’s free  passage into the city. That’s was the deal.” She flashed the contract in front of Marion’s face, her eyes glimmering with satisfaction.

“I notice you left out the ‘no sexual favors’ part of the contract.”

Athenril waved her hand, “That was verbal, not written. You should have known better than trust a voiced agreement over a paper one.”

“You will _not_ sell my sister! She will retain her virginity and innocence until such a time as she _chooses_ to give it away.”

“ _I shall do whatever I please_. After all, this paper says you two belong to me.”

Marion swore, “If you break that contract, Athenril, it leaves me free to break mine. I’m sure the coterie would love to know everything about your little operation, here.”

The elf embedded the blade her dagger in her desk and rose, “You little harlot, I will not be threatened! I’ll have you killed first!”

“Then cease threatening _me_ and show me the respect I deserve! Add our little _verbal_ agreement into that contract and I’ll get back in line! I will not allow you to sell my sister!” Hawke refused to back down, this conflict had been coming for a long time.

Athenril quietly sat for a few moments, debating something. “I’ll add the little caveat in regards to your sister… _if_ you take her place.”

_“I beg your pardon?”_

“My customer wants a young beautiful virgin. As… _unhappy_ as I am to admit it, you also meet all the qualifications.” The woman smirked, “Do this, and your sister will be safe. I’ll add it to the contract right now, and I’ll even give you a copy for safekeeping.” She dipped a quill in her pot of ink to show her readiness to comply.

Marion faltered. She’d never ever let her sister do this, but was she prepared to take her place? She’d kill Athenril if she had to, but would her family survive the recoil? What were her options here? Tossing scenarios back and forth in her head, she reached the only conclusion that spared her family any retaliation.

 Clenching her fists and closing her eyes, she agreed.

**oOoOo*oOoOo**

 


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

**oOoOoOo*oOoOoOo**

Bethany looked up as soon as Reaver started barking, his tail wagging furiously, and a smile stretched across her face, “Mother! Marion’s home!”

A few seconds later, the black haired rogue entered the small dilapidated house, going immediately to the mabari and calming him. “Down, boy. I’m fine. It’s alright. I’m here.” The dog whined and jumped on his mistress, putting his paws on her shoulders and licking her face. “Gah! Reaver! Down!” He did so grudgingly, but attached himself to her side like sticksap, the top of his head brushing her waist.

“Marion!” Leandra appeared at the doorway to the bedroom, briskly walking over to embrace her eldest daughter.

Surprised, the women squeezed back, muttering a quick, “Mother,” before parting.

Gamlen just arched a brow from his chair, looking no cleaner nor jovial since she had been here last, “Decided to come back, then? I figured you’d abandoned your mother and sister.”

“Gamlen! You know she’s working off an indentured servitude _you_ signed her up for!” Leandra scolded.

“Bethany’s here all the time. I see no reason her sister couldn’t be either.” He sneered. “Probably drinking and whoring herself out.”

“Uncle! You go too far!” The youngest Hawke gasped, scandalized.

“No, it’s alright, Bethany.” Marion said through clenched teeth, “He doesn’t understand that Athenril has different uses for the two of us. However _whoring_ will never be one of them despite what he may _wish_.” She shot Gamlen a quelling look, “Do not compare me to yourself, Uncle. You’ll find no similarities.” Internally she winced, knowing that she was going to make those words a lie very soon.

“You _dare_ in _my own house_ -”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Leandra cried, waving her hands. “Marion is providing for us, Gamlen, what more do you want? And Marion, Gamlen gave us a roof over our heads. Please, let there be peace here!”

“My apologies, Mother, I am… _tired_.”

Leandra embraced her eldest daughter again, “I’m missed you, love. I do wish you’d come by more often.”

Sensing sincerity in her words, Marion drew up a small smile for her, “I’ll try, Mother, really.”

“Come, now, let’s all sit down to breakfast. I made a full Fereldan spread because I knew you were coming. I thought you could use a taste of home.”

Genuinely touched at her mother’s thoughtfulness, Marion sat at the table, next to her sister, and had a relatively peaceful meal with her family. Even Gamlen. Knowing what the next week would bring, she tried to take in every detail and burn it into her memory. She’d need the comfort in the days ahead.

**oOo*oOo**

Varric leaned back in his chair at his private rooms at the Hanged Man, his feet on the table in front of him. He was in deep thought. The response Hawke had to his gift had been very complimentary, but it was her inquiry about what it would cost her that really got him. Of course, being that she didn’t know him, it could only be common sense. If he were in her shoes, he’d ask the same. It stung, though, and he wasn’t sure why.

Actually, that was a lie. He was already growing fond of the young enforcer in Athenril’s band just from the stories of her exploits that Adar brought back.

She was kind and compassionate, a deadly fighter, and she inspired a large amount of loyalty in her comrades. She was either going to be a very dangerous rival, or a very advantageous ally once she removed herself from the elf’s service. If he could only ferret out why she was even still with Athenril when to all accounts he heard she treated the young woman like nothing more than a tool, degrading her excellent choices and disparaging her personally. She was treated like a… a _slave_.

That was it. It had to be something like that. There’s no way a talented, bright young woman like Hawke would take that kind of disrespect when she was the only one holding Athenril’s head afloat among the coterie and carta. Unless she didn’t realize that she was the one doing so…

 _Pah! Too many variables_. He had to find out which was the accurate theory. Then he could make some solid decisions about the girl. The only thing he knew for sure was that if she ever stepped out from the elf, he’d take her on in a heartbeat.

Returning to a normal seating position, the dwarf uncapped his ink and grabbed his parchment. He had some answers he needed and the most direct way to get them was from the source.

**oOo*oOo**

_Hawke,_

_No repayment expected. It’s a gift. You do know what a gift is, do you not?_

_Though, it would… satisfy my curiosity if you would answer a few questions._

_Not about the leader of the merry band you find yourself among. I wouldn’t wish to put you in an awkward situation. Merely questions about yourself, which you may choose to answer or ignore as you wish._

_What exactly are you doing stuck under someone like Athenril anyway? I would think someone like yourself would find happiness fighting your own battles and not being held accountable to another._

_How old are you? I’m getting varied guesses from some of my sources, but the only thing they agree on is that you’re young. No older than twenty-three._

_What’s your family like? I don’t mean just your sister. I know she’s a mage, obviously. Though I keep the fact to myself, I assure you. I mean the rest of your family. She goes home at night, yet you stay in Athenril’s base with the other men as if you have no home. Are there tensions within your family that cause this, or are you merely looking for independence?_

_Where did you learn to fight like that? Though, I haven’t seen it firsthand but merely heard from our young friend, you seem to have some skill on the battlefield yet no formal training. As far as I can see, anyway you arrived with your blade talent._

_I suppose that will suffice for now. It always seems you’re short of time, being at the elf’s beck and call like you are._

_Stay alive, would you? You’re interesting._

_Bard_

 

Only this man could amuse her, confuse her, flatter her, and insult her in a single letter, Marion decided. He was the essence of contradictions, yet she was thrilled at each new missive. It was rather like having a secret friend. Actually, he really was a secret friend… or acquaintance anyway. The only other people to know about the letters were Adar and Bethany, and she hadn’t exactly been very forthcoming to her little sister lately.

She reread the letter a few times, trying to decide what to say and how to word her reply. She saw no harm in answering, or partially answering, the Bard’s questions. After all, if she was in his position, she’d be curious too.

For once, she was alone in the barracks with her own supplies instead of filching some of the boy’s ink and parchment to reply, having had only enough time to grab the message from Adar earlier before moving on.

Honestly, it was like Athenril was trying to squeeze every last drop of work she could get from Marion before… the day. _Maker, only three days away_. Hawke pushed the thought away. _Best not to dwell on it_. Though tensions between the two had calmed in the days since their agreement, they had far from vanished. Athenril mostly just ignored her, save from snapping out orders like she was a mongrel dog.

Marion sighed. At least answering this letter would be a distraction. One sorely needed.

Two hours and ten burnt parchments later and Marion still wasn’t satisfied. New thoughts kept popping up in her head and new observations interfering with what she was writing. She was beginning to see more connections between the events in her life, her emotions, and the person she was. _Sod it_. She thought. _I need to organize my thoughts first._

_Wait a minute….That’s it!_

Looking at the timepiece on the wall, Marion estimated that she had at least another two hours before she was on duty again. If she tried to sleep now she’d only be worse, so she might as well get up and move. She had the perfect errand for that. As well as the coin. She whistled for Reaver, grabbed her daggers, cloak, and coin purse and set out for Hightown. The only market in Kirkwall where you could buy a decent journal.

**oOo*oOo**

Marion couldn’t be more thankful for the easy guard duty she had been given tonight. She was running on twenty-five hours of no sleep and counting. Normally, stationed here at the legitimate warehouse would see her playing Wicked Grace with the others. Tonight, however, she was sitting in a corner with a lamp and her brand new purchase of a soft blue leather bound journal. She scratched away methodically as new thoughts came to her, occasionally reaching down to rub Reaver’s head where he was napping against her calf.

Details she hadn’t noticed before jumped to the forefront of her mind, and the connections she only glanced at earlier taking root. Absorbed as she was in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the runner at the door until Riven shouted over at her.

“Hawke, message for you!”

She started and looked over at the man coming towards her. It was one of the normal messengers Athenril tended to use and no cause for alarm, as he didn’t look worried. He passed her a note, nodded, and took off again. She tiredly unrolled the scroll.

_Hawke,_

_Go get some beauty rest. You’ll need for your client on Friday._

_Tomorrow you’ll learn the etiquette that will be required of you, and Thursday we’ll polish you up._

_For now, sleep. Those circles under your eyes do your appearance no favors._

_A._

_Maker_ , Marion thought. _After midnight. Down to two days._ She closed her eyes and rubbed her face. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold her resolve. She was already near to cracking. She wasn’t sure she was strong enough for this. _Perhaps if I pretend he’s someone else…._

Reaver whined from under the table and she shushed him. He could sense her emotional turmoil in a way no one else could. Pushing the thoughts away again, she gathered her items, blew out her lamp and left, the hound at her heals. She forced herself to think of nothing but her surroundings and her bed all the way to the barracks, steadfastly ignoring the tangled knot of dread forming in her stomach.

She made it back to the base surprisingly unmolested. _What a pity_ , Marion thought. She was dying to spill some blood and clear her mind. She collapsed into her bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Unfortunately, it was far from restful.

**oOo*oOo**

The morning dawned sooner than Marion would have liked. Nightmares had kept her up off and on. It seemed like every time she shut her eyes she woke in a cold sweat moments later, that knot of dread slowly winding even tighter. She didn’t get much choice as to when she rose, though, as Athenril had unsympathetically whipped the blanket off of her and rolled her onto the floor.

The breath knocked out of her from the solid landing, Marion only glared weakly at her attacker.

Athenril only stared back, her eyes cold. “Time to get up. You’ve a full day ahead of you with Madame Dulés.”

Hawke nodded and slowly rose. “Do I need to bring anything?”

“I’d advise notes, so you can study them tonight and tomorrow. Other than that, your body. Oh, and _leave that bloody animal here!_ ”

The brunette winced but gathered her new journal and supplies before commanding Reaver to stay. He whined, but hopped up onto her still warm bed and lay down. This… was not going to be fun.

**oOo*oOo**

“No! Not like that!”

A long thin switch came down hard on Marion’s shoulder. “Fucking hell, what was that for?!”

It came down again in the exact same spot. “Language!”

 _Maker, for an elderly woman, Madame Dulés has a hell of an arm…not to mention a deadly aim._ Marion thought balefully as tears welled in her eyes. _Andraste’s tits! I can take a stab wound with not so much as a whimper, but the sting of an ash branch makes me cry! What the hell is wrong with me?_

“You’re graceful. Deadly, too, if the rumors I’m hearing are true. This should be simple for you!” Sharp blue eyes studied her from a wrinkled face. “Come here.” Warily, Marion stepped closer to the woman. She flinched, but all the other did was place a large book on her head. “Walk over to the fire place and walk back, keeping the book balanced on your head.”

Sighing, Marion did so, automatically adjusting her gait and speed to compensate for the extra weight and odd placement of the tome. “Pay attention to your body!”

“Yes, Madame.” Again, she walked. She could feel how linear her body was. Her feet rolled to keep her balance, and her footsteps were light. She was supposed to be learning the baring of a ‘lady’ yet at the same time rolling her hips seductively like a whore. What an oxymoron. She heard the matron sigh.

“Stop. Stop.” Marion did so immediately. “You have a hound, yes?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Fetch him.”

Quirking an eyebrow Marion walked to the door and opened it, letting out a piercing whistle. A minute later, Reaver came trotting calmly into sight. Once in the room, she shut the door behind him and he obediently sat at her side observing the room for threats.

“A fine animal. Is he well trained?”

“Yes, Madame. From a pup.”

“Walk with him.” She paused, “Don’t forsake the book.”

“Yes, Madame.” Marion was growing steadily wearier of these… _etiquette_ lessons, but complied. Placing the tome back onto her head, she commanded Reaver to heal. He followed her around the room, nearly attached to her hip as always.

It took a few steps for her to adjust her gait to the book, as well as Reaver, but soon she was instinctively rolling her hips slightly to the side to keep from knocking them into his head every other step. The book balanced on its precarious perch kept her spine straight and steps as light as always.

She made two turns around the room as such until Dulés called a halt. “My dear… That was perfect.” The former madam ignored Marion’s shocked expression and continued, “You adjust your hips to keep from smacking your hound, something I’m sure you learned to do at a young age, and you automatically adjust to balancing the book. That’s the perfect posture for subtle invitation and proud young lady. Take three more turns about the room.”

Gritting her teeth, Marion did so. She had a dark feeling that she was never going to be able to lose this walk after it had been ingrained so thoroughly.

“Good. Now remove the book, but keep the posture and continue.” Knowing what the stance should feel like, the way her muscles and spine need to adapt hold themselves, made it easier to replicate without the prop. It almost felt natural. She walked several times around the room, occasionally faltering but always managing to get back into the proper step. When she managed three full rotations, Dulés had her command Reaver to lie down and continue without him.

That was much easier. It was a familiar adjustment she had been doing almost half her life. All she need do was pretend the hound’s brawny warmth was still at her side.

“That’ll do, dear. There’s hope for you, yet.”

 _Oh, goody._ Marion thought sardonically, _Just what I wanted to hear._

**oOo*oOo**

There were other lessons, not just posture. A graceful turn of phrase, relatively easy after she dropped the force-of-habit roughness she’d acquired to fit in since moving to Kirkwall. Proper titles of address. Also simple… Leandra had been an Amell, once, and had made sure all her children knew proper protocol should they ever find themselves in noble company.

Actually… many of the ‘lessons’ Marion had been forced to heed that day had merely involved reminding herself of what her mother had already taught her. Despite the constant drifting of her childhood and the combat training at her own request, Marion had, in fact, been raised to be a lady. There was a deep irony there that she refused to address. Some things were better left buried.

Even her Fereldan accent had softened by the end of the day, the vocal rhythms she’d picked up from her mother early in childhood returning to the foreground. Marion had never felt so much more, yet so much less like herself than she did as she slipped into bed that night. She was rediscovering a part of her that she had completely forgotten, yet it was no longer _her_ and only being drawn out in a fit of desperation. She was slowly tearing herself apart and had no idea how to fix it.

For the first time in little over a week, Marion slept deeply, too tired to dream or fret.

**oOo*oOo**

“Is all this really necessary, Athenril?” Marion growled through gritted teeth as another cloth strip was ripped from her leg, taking every last hair and probably all her skin with it.

“The client wants a proper, demure, young lady and all that entails. That includes properly _groomed_. Maker knows when you last had a bath.” The elf sneered from where she sat watching the proceedings and, Marion was sure, getting some sadistic glee in the pain it was putting her in.

“You should be _thanking_ me. You could never afford to come to this bathhouse on your own, let alone receive its full beautifying services.” Hawke clinched her fists and ignored the barbs. The woman had already won; there was no sense in making it worse on herself.

“Madame Dulés did nothing but sing your praises after your lesson, yesterday. I suppose you’ll make a decent whore, yet.” There was an unfamiliar bite to the words that Marion had never heard from Athenril before. It took her a few seconds, but she suddenly understood.

She shrugged as though unconcerned and silkily replied, “Mother _was_ an Amell. She taught all of us most of that when we were children, as all the _proper_ nobles do. All I needed were a few reminders of what I already knew.” Athenril sneered, yet remained silent. Marion mentally tallied a point under her column of triumphs. The two rows were pathetically uneven.

  _Woman needs to get over it. It’s not the elven blood that keeps her from being noble. After all our noble blood doesn’t keep us from being common…it’s our attitudes and deeds._ Blinking momentarily at weighty epiphany she had just had, Marion felt somewhat more at ease with her rediscovered aristocracy. The next strip of cloth came off and Marion yelped.

It seemed like every single hair on her body, save that on her head and a neat triangle betwixt her legs, had been removed by the time they were done. Even her eyebrows had not been entirely safe. Next was something called a full body polish and Marion had mentally joked with herself if it was the same polishing a rock.

Turns out, it was. Fine hot sand was rubbed briskly across every inch of her skin, irritating the still inflamed areas that had been waxed and causing her to clench her teeth to keep from howling in pain. Her nails had been trimmed, her body _polished_ , every follicle of hair ripped from her skin… _Maker, what else could there be?_

A clay bath. This had to be a joke. She was supposed to be here to be groomed and cleaned, which she very much had been, but now she’s to get dirty again? Sighing in resignation, Marion slowly immersed herself in the thick brown mixture. Surprisingly, it was very soothing against her abraded skin and remarkably relaxing. This _bath_ … was not a cruelty at all. It was the first nice thing that Athenril had done for her, intentionally or not.

She was much disappointed to leave it when it was time to move on. A rinse to remove the mud and a real bath with scented soaps followed. Scented oil message to match the bath after that. Marion could almost be content if it weren’t for the knowledge of exactly why she was here.

She let go of as much as she could, enjoying the pleasant parts of her… _preparation_. However, the thoughts never truly left her mind, merely hovering at the back and bleeding into her contentment. Instead, she forced her thoughts along the line of her as-of-yet-unwritten reply to the Bard.

She’d pen it tonight, and hand it off to Adar.

**oOoOo*oOoOo**


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

 

**oOoOoOo*oOoOoOo**

 

When Adar had arrived with Hawke’s reply and a pinched look on his face, Varric immediately set out to find out what was wrong. After some coaxing and a little bribery, which proved to the dwarf exactly how loyal _his_ spy was becoming to the woman, he finally spilled the tale.

_The brown haired boy sat idly on the rooftop across from Athenril’s base, slowly chewing on sweet roll he had bought earlier. He was watching the street as a whole, but keeping most of his attention on the front door. Marion always used that one. Apparently, he wasn’t really paying it enough thought._

_Claws clicked rhythmically on the stone behind him and Adar turned to smile at his visitor. Reaver was just as fond of the boy as his mistress was. He frowned, though, when he noticed the tense look on Marion’s face and the way the hound’s eyes were constantly on his mistress._

_“Marion, what’s wrong?”_

_The woman forced a smile, “Nothing, lad. Just have a reply for you to take.”_

_The boy was not so easily fooled, “Miss Marion,” a title he reverted to for important conversations or when he was afraid he’d done something wrong, “you’re not looking so good.” Tact was not his strong suit._

_She forced a chuckle, “I’m fine. Just a little tired. You know how she keeps me running around.”_

_Adar nodded because it was true, but her stance showed she was more than just tired. “I’m worried about you, Marion. You haven’t really been yourself this last week or so.”_

_“I know, lad. I’ll be fine, though.” She handed him a scroll. “You know who this goes to.” She joked, but her eyes held no humor. She was quiet for a moment, just looking out over street. “I need you to do me a favor, Adar.”_

_The boy watched her warily, “What kind of favor?”_

_“Nothing dangerous.” She chuckled darkly, “Not for you, anyway, but that’s the point. I need you to stay away tomorrow and the next day.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I… there are things… I must do tomorrow. Things I don’t want you to see.” She slowly explained._

_“You don’t trust me?” Adar turned wounded eyes to his friend._

_“It’s not that.” She gently said, ruffling his hair fondly. The touch comforted him a bit, “It would be dangerous, very dangerous, for you to actually follow me tomorrow. I will not be available to protect you, either.” He opened his mouth to retort but she held up a hand, staying him. “Your skills have greatly improved, and I know you can hide yourself well, but please… do not make me worry for you.”_

_Her eyes pleaded with him and he found himself making the promise before he realized it. “Thank you.” The relief in her voice had been palpable. Then, she bent down to gently kiss his forehead. Ice gripped his belly as he realized… something here was_ very _wrong._

_“Marion?”_

_But she was gone._

“You’d best do as she asks, lad.” Varric told the boy.

“But-”

“No buts. She has her reasons and she’s been very patient with us both so far. You’ll take the day off.” The dwarf knew there was no way the lad would be able to concentrate the next day to gather more info or even train some of the others. “Play with that brother of yours and help your mum around the house.”

“I… yes, Serah.” His shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“Adar.” The boy looked up and Varric’s tone gentled, “She’s a grown woman. She can take care of herself. She’ll be fine, you’ll see. Go on now, lad.” With that, the teen left the room, presumably on his way home.

The dwarf sat back and sighed. _Fantastic_. Now he was worried about her. Perhaps her letter had some hints about the situation. With that thought, he broke the seal and settled to read.

 

_Bard,_

_Yes, I’ve heard of a gift and I’ve received them before. However, as I don’t really know you, I felt some caution should be applied to the situation. If a gift is truly all it is, then I accept with as much grace and dignity I can offer._

_Thank you._

_I see no harm in satisfying some of your curiosity. In fact, while trying to pen my original responses to this letter I found doing so actually helped me organize some of the events and information in my own mind._

_I am working under Athenril because she owns my loyalty until my contract with her for services rendered runs out. A contract I shall not be renewing. The reasons were simple; my family needed entry into Kirkwall which she provided through means of gold. I have a debt to her and the balance yet weighs uneven._

_As to my age, I will be twenty this winter. I found this an odd question, as age, in my experience, has never had much to do with anything. Yet it is a harmless question, so I’ve answered it._

_My family… is complicated. My mother and her brother were once nobility here in Kirkwall, a life I’ve never had nor aspired to. Mother lost her family’s favor when she ran away to Fereldan to marry my father while my uncle stayed here. After my grandparent’s passing, my uncle gambled and spent the family fortune and estate away. Mother remains resolute that they must have mentioned her in the will, but my uncle is firm that they did not but will not produce the document to confirm this._

_He is… resentful of our intrusion in his house, yet he is the one who contracted my sister and me to Athenril for our passage. We support him as well as ourselves. Mother and he bicker over both subjects most often and I cannot stand to be in the midst of it. There are… other factors that lead me to not sleep there, but they are more private than the above._

_As for my fighting, constantly being on the run from the Templars is rather conducive to learning how to defend yourself. You are correct; I have had no formal training, yet many different teachers over the years. I can do a little bit of everything, but I prefer a duel wielding style. It lends more agility and speed._

_You, yourself, are a rather mysterious figure. I suppose it would do me no good to ask questions about you personally, however would you indulge me in a few about your operation? I find myself intrigued with the little bit I’m managed to glean from our young friend._

_Things like the other boys. Adar says that you have many attached to specific places or people about the city. He remarked that no one bothers them after the one boy was revenged. I find it hard to believe that everyone is willingly letting those in your employ spy upon their dealings._

_He also mentioned, when I first caught him, that you instruct all your shadows to willing give up all information requested of them when they’re caught. Safety over secrecy. I admit am… stunned. Not many employers value the lives of those under their command over the information that may be spilled. I cannot help but agree with this philosophy._

_I’m merely asking for reasons, I guess. The thought processes that lead you to these conclusions._

_I hope my answers satisfy your curiosity and my questions do not offend._

_H._

 

No information about the current situation there, but if Varric was honest with himself, he hadn’t really expected any. What was he going to do about this? Sighing, his thoughts turned towards what had been in the missive.

She was nineteen, right now. Maker, so young and yet so experienced in the way of the world. Much like the lads he employed. Her family tensions were surprising. A noble line. He had been expecting money troubles or just normal spats but that certainly put a different spin on things. At least his suspicions about her reasons for working with Athenril had been confirmed.

But what to do about it?

**oOo*oOo**

 

She couldn’t breathe. This ridiculous contraption Athenril had forced on her wasn’t making it any easier. Didn’t women in Hightown need to breathe? Were they some other species? Marion’s palms were sweating and her stomach twisted tighter than the corset. The world blurred around her as she groped the wall in desperation.

 _I can’t do this. I can’t._ She thought drunkenly.

“You can and you are.” Athenril sneered down at her. How did she get on the floor? Had she said that last aloud? “You fell like a drunken harlot, and yes. This man has paid good money for you. You will go in and do whatever he says.”

 _I can’t. I can’t. I can’t._ Marion chanted in her head. _Can’t. Can’t. Can’t. Ca-_ A solid slap to her face cleared her head and she looked up at the elf, the world once again becoming recognizable around her.

“Get a hold of yourself. It’s not like you’re going to your death. Serah Vienne has promised no permanent damage.” The world began to swim again. A sting on her other cheek, “ _Breath_ , Hawke. I did not expect you to be so cowardly.”

The barb hit home and Marion steadied. She _was_ acting like a coward. Maker, this was it… Athenril motioned to her guards and they hauled the rogue to her feet, she wavered before finding her balance again. The elf’s face flooded into her vision as she straightened the emerald green dress she’d insisted Marion wear, “You will not fuck this up for me. You will go in there and obey every command he gives you. I don’t care if he tells you to fuck his _dog_ , you will do so.”

“ _I… he…”_ Athenril’s gaze softened the slightest amount at the pure terror that showed on Hawke’s face.

“Chances are it won’t be all bad. Most men just want to feel virile and young when they take a virgin. Try to enjoy what you can.” Suddenly looking disgusted with herself, the elf shoved a vial into her hands, “Drink that. It will prevent his seed from taking hold. The last thing either of us need is you heavy with his bastard.”

Her fingers trembling, Marion fumbled with the cork before finally downing the contraceptive. She could do this. This was for Bethany. She was Marion Hawke. She could do anything.

“Good. Come along now, we’ve wasted enough time already.”

Athenril whipped around and began walking again, forcing Marion to catch up. Moments later, they were at the back door of a Hightown estate. The elf knocked and said, “You remember what I told you. Anything he wants.” Hawke nodded shakily and jumped as the door opened.

A middle aged man in servants’ attire looked them over, then nodded and stepped aside to allow entrance. Athenril pushed Hawke forward over the threshold then made to follow. The man barred her way. “Only the young women, messere. The master’s orders, I’m afraid.” He withdrew a sack heavily with gold and handed it to the elf. “She will make it back to you whole, make no mistake.” The door closed on Athenril’s outraged face, but Marion felt no satisfaction. To her the heavy slam sounded like a death knell.

“This way, miss.” Unperturbed, the servant lead Marion up the grand stairs of the estate. Shivering, she pulled her cloak tighter around her with unsteady hands. The air in the estate was no warmer than the autumn night outside. They stopped before a set of heavily ornate doors, and the manservant rapped twice, waited a moment, then ushered her in. The doors shut quickly behind her.

Marion took a slow steadying breath and observed her surroundings, hoping to find an anchor. She was obviously in the master suite. In the center of the wall to her left a fire crackled merrily in a grand fireplace. It was the only light to bathe the room. Her eyes skittered over the decadent looking bed and moved on to the two doors on the right side of the room. One was probably to a bathing chamber, the other to a dressing room. She saw no movement to indicate a man was present.

Her back was to the final corner, and it was there where her… _host_ … had been hiding.

“You are as lovely as I had expected.” The silky voice startled her out of her observations and she turned to face its owner, heart pounding in her chest. The man’s face was hidden in shadow, but the light from the fire allowed her to see that he was only in a house robe. Her breath sped up again.

“I am… pleasantly surprised at Athenril’s service. Are you as virginal, as she claims?”

Marion swallowed hard, trying to break up the knot in her throat. “I… I am, my lord.” She winced at how weak her voice was and mentally kicked herself. The man stepped forward into the light and she quietly gasped. He was handsome, she supposed, even with that scar over his eye. Middle aged, but his body seemed firm under the robe, and he moved with a grace that belied his years.

His eyes, however. They held a glint in them that screamed danger to every single instinct she had. This man was… frightening.

“I am afraid, my dear,” he spoke as he prowled towards her, forcing her to step back herding her towards the bed, “that you are not going to enjoy this.” Her knees hit the back of the wooden frame of the bed and she tumbled onto the mattress. In a flash, he was pressing her down with his weight, a strong hand covering her mouth and the other gripping her wrists like shackles. Her screams were muffled as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

 

**oOo*oOo**

 

Bethany paced the length of common room at the barracks. No one had seen her sister all day but for when she’d dropped Reaver at the house in the early morning. Now it was well into the night and there was still no word. She’d come to tell Marion that their mother had given her the key to the back door of the former Amell estate and was hoping they could plan an excursion into their old family home. 

But this… she hadn’t expected to spend all night just hoping to hear word.

Athenril was unconcerned when Bethany had cornered her at her return an hour ago. She had merely shrugged her shoulders and told Bethany that her sister was on a special assignment tonight and to go home. The smug smirk on the elf’s lips as she spoke those words, however, told a slightly different story.

Sighing, the mage walked into her sister’s area of the barracks and threw herself onto the bed. She yelped as something sharp jabbed into her shoulder from under the pillow. Frowning, she felt around and pulled out a slim blue journal. _Since when did Marion keep a diary?_

Feeling slightly guilty, but too worried not to give into temptation, she flipped the book open to a random page.

_I don’t want to do this. I would do anything to keep Bethany safe, but I can’t escape the feeling of dread and the horror of what I have to do… I’m terrified, but there’s no way out. It’s Bethany or me, and by Andraste my sister will never know that I’m taking her place in this._

_I don’t even want to think about what she’d do if she found out. Or Mother. Maker, what would Mother say to see my honor sullied so? Would she understand that it was for Bethany or would she throw me into the street and strip me of my name?_

Eyes widening, Bethany flipped back, searching for an explanation to the passage she’d just read. Random observations were littered through the journal, at most there was a paragraph at a time about a single subject, but finally she found what she was looking for. On the second page, she read.

_I fought with Athenril about the rumor I’d heard regarding her plans to sell my sister’s virginity. I can’t believe she truly thought I wouldn’t find out and stop her. The bargain I made in return, though…_

_Athenril is refusing to honor our verbal agreement that no sexual services would be required from my sister or myself. In order to save Bethany from her machinations, I had to agree to take her place. Athenril’s… client wants a young virgin. I fit the bill as well as Bethany does though I don’t have as much innocence to sully, and I refuse to see my sister used in such a manner. I almost murdered the elf for even thinking about it, but that would only bring harm upon Mother and the rest of the family._

_We cannot afford to break contract. No one would survive the repercussions._

_Athenril did make an addition to the written contract, witnessed by her own guards. Bethany is to never be used in such a way, and she is to never know about this, in exchange I will take her place and sell my own virginity and honor._

_Maker, give me strength. The date is little more than two days from now._

_Am I strong enough for this?_

“Oh, no…” Bethany’s wiped her tears away and whispered, “Sister, why did you do this? There’s always another way…” In her heart, the mage knew better and she began to hate the part of her that was relieved and grateful. Her sister’s sacrifice would not be forgotten.

**oOo*oOo**

 

Marion struggled to consciousness. She had no idea how long she’d been out, or even where she was but every part of her body ached. She tried to sit but moaned in pain as specific injuries made themselves known and the way she was bound turned her muscles to fire. The sharp throb between her legs was pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

Everything came flooding back to her and she bit off another moan. The last thing she wanted to do was alert Vienne that’s she was awake again. The man was… some kind of sadistic monster. Instead, she remained where she was, feigning sleep and trying to catalogue her wounds.

She was covered in thin lacerations and bruises. She vaguely remembered him biting her shoulder in the same spot, over and over, as well as her inner thigh. Her left wrist was immovable in its rope binding, swollen from where the man had crushed both of them together in his vice-like grip and she prayed it wasn’t broken. She thought it was her worst injury, on the surface, anyway.

She whimpered as she shifted. Whatever the monster had done to her private area was serious. She recognized the sticky consistency and knew blood coated her inner thighs. She didn’t think a single healing potion was going to bring her back from this. She was going to need a lot of recovery time and not a small amount of alcohol to dull the memory.

She tensed and bit back another moan as she heard a door open. Footsteps approached her back and she stopped breathing, fear coursing through her. She heard the snick of a blade being drawn and prepared herself for more pain. Instead, her hands were freed. The surprise of sudden blood flow and the pain of them losing support drew a low yelp from her.

Her ankles were next but she was better prepared.

She flinched when a hand touched bare skin comfortingly. “It’s alright, miss. It’s over now.” Marion vaguely recognized the soft voice of Vienne’s manservant but didn’t dare believe it. A warm wet cloth began to bathe the blood and Maker knew what else from her body.

She hissed as he rubbed her open wounds and moaned when his hands gently probed her wrist. “I am sorry to cause you more pain, but in order to heal you I must examine you.” She heard him pull a cork from a bottle and finally opened her eyes. She watched silently as he applied a paste onto another cloth and began to dab it onto her deepest cuts.

She sighed in relief as they pain numbed and the warmth of healing magic soothed them away. “I am afraid that some of these will scar.” He carefully informed her, referring specifically to the bite marks and two _decorative carvings_ the man’s master had inflicted upon her.

He quietly tended to her backside before gently rolling her over. His eyes were hooded but she saw a glimmer of compassion in them. He silently began his ministrations on her front, carefully avoiding her center and wrist. He picked up another potion vial. It looked similar to the health potions the Bard had gifted her with but was creamy pink instead of the vibrant blood red.

The man gently pressed it to her lips and she drank, tears of pain and humiliation unheeded. It’s not like she had a choice, and he appeared to be trying to help her. Almost immediately, warmth washed through her, followed by a cold, lethargic numbness. “I need to tend to your most grievous wounds now, miss. The numbing potion will help you to feel no pain, and will hopefully send you back to sleep. I wish I could spare you this indignity another way.”

She faded back into the darkness.

When she woke again, she was clean, dry, and only in a fraction of the pain she was before. She experimentally flexed her muscles and was relieved to only wince instead of biting back a scream. She opened her eyes and looked around, warily. The manservant may have healed her and hinted that the whole experience was over, but until she was out of this house, she couldn’t afford to believe that.

She must be in the servants’ quarters. They were neat and tidy, but lacking the opulence the master’s chamber had had. The bed under her was small, barely big enough for her, but smelled fresh and clean. An old night stand stood next to the cot and what appeared to be a soft woven dress was folded atop it.

She rose slowly, wary of her surroundings and of her injuries. She was naked, which was not really a surprise. The bruises still covering her were. She didn’t know why after everything else was healed her bruises remained but resolved to rid her skin of the remnants of her violation as soon as possible.

Finding no other alternative, she clothed herself in the soft dress left for her and the common slippers she’d revealed underneath. Hoping to find a wash basin, she opened the door to the small cupboard in the corner and froze. The dress she had worn upon her arrival was there.

Tears along the bodice drew her eyes, edges darkened with dried blood, and the white linen hem from the petticoat, her hands. She pushed aside the emerald velvet to morbidly gaze upon the marks that dyed the snow white cloth of the underskirt; the last of her innocence lost.

She fingered the blood stains, caught up in the memory of the searing pain of her rending virginity as Vienne had entered her roughly. She had screamed around the gag in her mouth and fought with every ounce of strength she’d possessed but she could not free herself. Tears welled in her eyes and she wiped her face roughly. Now was not the time to break down. She focused on the petticoat in front of her and worked slowly to tear a long strip of the bloodied cloth off.

It was a Fereldan custom that if a woman’s honor was taken from her, she took a cloth soaked in the blood and carried it around. It was a symbol of stained honor and her quest to recover it. Whores didn’t wear them, they had made a choice not had one taken from them. The cloth held significance, though. While no one looked down upon a red band, it did occasionally effect marriage agreements and the like. If the woman wed, though, her husband would wear the band for her their first week of wedlock before burning it to show that he took the stain from her and nullified it.

Though, she didn’t know why _she_ was taking the cloth. She might have fought Vienne, but she had agreed to it, for the sake her sister. However…virginity blood was special to Fereldans. She wrapped the band of cloth around her wrist and shut the doors leaving the once beautiful dress in darkness.

Softly, she walked over to the door to the room and tried the handle, expecting to find it locked. Surprisingly, it turned easily in her hand and swung open on well oiled hinges. Tentatively, she entered the hallway. Marion heard footsteps start towards her and froze, ready to sprint back into her room and bar the door.

When she saw it was just the servant, though still wary, she relaxed the smallest amount when he made no threatening gestures. He stopped a few feet from her, “I am relieved to see you awake.”

“How long?” She asked, wincing at the hoarseness of her voice.

“It is Monday afternoon.” She’d been here for three days. _Maker, Bethany must be worried sick._

“Am I free to leave?” She whispered.

“You are.”

“ _Please_.”

His eyes regretful, he led her to the back entrance and out the door. “Be safe, miss…. I am sorry.”

She nodded, acknowledging his words, and disappeared into the back alley. She had a healer to see and clothing to collect.

**oOoOo*oOoOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I have not abandoned this story. I merely lost my muse for awhile. (Oddly enough, she was hiding in Mexico.) I actually have quite a bit of this planned out, but finding time to sit down and write it is occasionally difficult. I have one more part still in reserve, but I'd like to get another done before posting that one.
> 
> Another reason it took me so long to post this chapter is that frankly, I wasn't convinced it was very good. I had to reread it and immerse myself in the world I've created to be happy with it.
> 
> As a side note, I have no beta. Please feel free to point out spelling errors and even plot holes and such as I'm afraid I cannot catch every mistake. 
> 
> Please forgive me for any odd stopping points. I originally wrote parts one through six pretty much all in one go. Chapter ends were chosen almost arbitrarily when I realized it was much easier to post broken down.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience with me.


	6. Part Six

**Part Six**  

 

**oOoOoOo*oOoOoOo**

“I’m sorry, Hawke, I can’t do anything about these bruises.” Anders stated after he had scanned the dark purple marks with his magic.

“What? Why not?” She asked, desperately. She just wanted them gone.

“There’s too much magic in your system, it’ll reject more. It might even lesson the effectiveness of the previous drafts. I can detect signatures to a minor healing poultice, a muscle suture, a numbing sleep potion, and an internal wounds potion. Maker, woman, what happened to you?” He asked, gently probing the still sore wrist. Pausing, he looked closer at the red marks on her skin frowned… the pattern… those looked like rope burns.

Marion wrenched her wrist from his hands but the damage was already done, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

It was then he noticed the red band hidden up her sleeve. From Fereldan himself, he understood immediately, “Oh, Hawke, I’m so sorry.”

She stood stiffly, “Thank you, serah, for doing what you could.” She turned to leave and his hand caught her bicep. Marion flinched and turned back to him, eyes flashing.

The mage immediately let go of her arm, holding up his hands to show he meant no harm, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Before you go, at least let me bandage that wrist. It’s mostly healed but it can only benefit from the support.” Hawke debated for a moment but her wrist mending properly was more important than the last shreds of her pride. He’d already seen the marks and it couldn’t get much worse. She nodded, eyes cold, and allowed him to gently wrap it. “If you ever need to talk…” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Closing her eyes and resigning herself, she nodded and took the offer as what it was. “If I ever need to talk, I’ll come to you.” She whispered. He made no move to stop her as she left his clinic, merely staring at the wall and hating the world.

Once Marion made her way back to Lowtown and Athenril’s base, it wasn’t hard to slip into the barracks unnoticed and dress in her armor. With each piece she put on, she slowly calmed, feeling more secure. She could still feel the hands, the rough whispers of degradations as Vienne had-

She shook her head, frantically willing the sensations way. Her skin crawled.

She needed a real bath, some food, and lots of alcohol and she knew just the place to go for it. Strapping her daggers to her back and her normal cloak about her shoulders, Marion turned on her heel and left the room.

**oOo*oOo**

Varric’s eyes watched an unfamiliar cloaked figure approach the bar as he listened with half an ear to the story one of the card players at the table was regaling him with. Cloaked customers weren’t out of the ordinary at the Hanged Man, but ones that moved with a deadly grace and a well hidden stiffness, well… they usually had a story or two.

He saw the flash of gold change hands and heard the bellow of Corff, nearly drowned out by the din of revelry in the room, to one of the barmaids to prepare a room and a bath. Following the appointed girl, the figure headed up the stairs to the tavern’s rented rooms. Well, it appeared he had some time to kill before making his inquiries.

Varric dealt the next hand, mind turning to other matters. Hawke for one. The woman hadn’t been seen for near on five days and word was that her sister was near frantic with worry. Athenril, however, didn’t seem too concerned which meant either the young woman was lying dead somewhere by the elf’s blade, or she held the knowledge of Hawke’s whereabouts. Varric was willing to bet on the latter, but if she didn’t reappear soon, he’d take matters into his own hands. Adar was practically in mourning already and he couldn’t stand see the boy so morose.

_Like you’re not worried…_ Varric pushed the thought aside and played his hand.

**o*o**

Marion slowly washed her body. The copper basin brought by the maid was barely big enough to sit in but it would do. She ran her hands over her new scars, still sensitive enough to give her a shock of pain when she did so, and tried to bottle up the flashes of memory.

_“So beautiful covered in blood and bruises.”_ She shivered, goose bumps rising on her arms and legs and hurriedly washed, trying to wipe away the feel of his hands. A single tear escaping her closed eyes.

Shaking her head, she forced herself back to the task at hand, thoroughly cleansing herself.

_Maker, it feels good to be clean…_ Marion thought as she rose. Methodically, she redressed in clean clothes and grabbed her daggers before looking in the mirror. The fading afternoon light played on the side of her face, bringing her bruises into stark relief, but other than that she looked no different. There was nothing to show how broken she felt inside.

She tucked the red band around her wrist and up her sleeve before leaving the room. She had some drinking to do.

**o*o**

Varric had kept a sharp eye on the stairs, so when the customer from earlier began to descend, he knew immediately. He arched a brow… She was not what he had expected. His eyes trailed the newcomer as she made her way over to the bar, speaking softly with Corff again, then over to the table in the other corner across from him.

Raven hair fell in light waves just passed her shoulders, visible only by its glossy sheen against the black of her snug fitting tunic. Two wicked looking daggers were strapped to her hips with a wide belt he couldn’t see from where he sat. Her legs were shapely, the soft grey cloth of her breeches hugging them, and her boots sturdy and well taken care of.

What he was most curious about, her face, was hidden by her posture and hair. As he watched, the one of the serving girls placed a tankard in front of her. She looked up to thank the girl, and he got his view. Her choppy bangs framed cat-like emerald eyes, set above a noble, feminine nose. Her lips were full and pink. The only thing marring her beauty was the dark bruise across her sharp cheek line and a thin split in her lower lip. She tilted her head to reveal more mottled markings on her neck and the dwarf winced in sympathy.

“What are you looking at, Varric?” The inquiry was delivered with a rough nudge from his left and a teasing smirk on the face of his usual card partner, Riven.

“Sorry, mates, got distracted.”

“I’ll say!” Someone piped up, grinning, “A beauty, that one. Though, she could probably kick my arse.”

Riven turned to look, following Varric’s line of sight. He blinked a couple of times and swore softly. “Fold. I’ve got some slightly more important business to attend to.” With that, he stood and made his way over to the corner table where the woman sat, his familiar greeting floating back to the group.

“Hawke!”

Varric’s other brow raised. _Hawke?_ Well… looks like she’s not missing anymore. “Ah, to the void with it. Games over, gents. I’m just not feeling the cards anymore.” With some muttered grumbling, the other two players gathered up their tankards and went in separate ways, leaving the dwarf to observe and listen.

**o*o**

“Hawke!”

Marion froze as steps approached her table. Warily, she turned her head to look at the one hailing her. “Riven.”

The man stepped forward and clapped a hand on her shoulder, raising his brows when she flinched. “Hawke?”

“Yes, Riven. You were expecting someone else? The King of Fereldan, perhaps?” She grumbled, covering her reaction.

He slowly reached forward and gently gripped her chin, turning her head so the light from the fire graced her face. Softly, he asked, “Who?”

Marion jerked her chin out of his grip and looked down at her mug. “No one.”

He sat down in the chair next to her, “Marion.” She startled. She didn’t think he even knew her first name. “Who did this to you?”

“Leave off. It doesn’t matter.” She growled, taking a drink of her ale.

“You disappear for three days and return looking like this and you think it doesn’t matter?” He frowned.

“Why do you care?” She asked waspishly.

“I care because you’re my friend and one of the best commanders I’ve ever had in my life. You’re quick, efficient, and you get the job done. You care about the men you’re in charge of, and you have the most compassionate heart I’ve seen in this business. Whatever you may think, or whatever Athenril wishes you to believe, you are well liked and respected.” His voice lowered further, “Many of us would see you in her position.”

Marion chuckled darkly, “Good luck with that. She holds too much over me to make that a reality.” She drained her mug and waved for another.

Switching tactics, Riven motioned for a tankard for himself as well. “Since when do you drink?”

“Just because I don’t normally do so, doesn’t mean I don’t drink at all. I fought in King Cailan’s army at Ostagar, Riven. I’d be a piss poor soldier if I couldn’t hold my liquor.”

“There’s truth in that.” He watched as she took a deep drink as soon as the server brought their mugs. “Looking to get drunk tonight, Hawke?”

“Looking to get so bloody pissed I can’t stand… or think.” She affirmed.

“This have anything to do with your bruises?” He asked, watching her face carefully.

Her eyes shuttered and she softly whispered, “Everything.” Coming back to herself, she shuddered and shook her head, “Leave off it, or I’ll kick your arse.”

“Like you could right now.” He said, forcing a smile.

“I can kick your arse anytime I please.” She tossed him a smug look. “Even with a broken wrist and one arm tied behind my back.”

“Whatever you say, Hawke.” He glanced over to see Varric’s table empty but for the dwarf and had an idea. If anyone could cheer the woman up, it was him. “Come on. I want you to meet someone.” The brown haired man helped her to stand and they moved their party to the other table. Varric looked up as they approached.

“Mind if we join you?”

“Not at all, Riven. Who’s your friend?” He asked as he motioned them to take a seat. He flagged Corff down and motioned for a pitcher to be delivered to the table.

“Varric Tethras meet Marion Hawke. Hawke, this is Varric.” The two new acquaintances sized each other up for a moment.

“A pleasure, Serah Tethras.” Marion spoke first, nodding to the dwarf before accepting the invitation to sit.

“Please, call me Varric.” He shot her a friendly smile and wink.

“Varric’s the best story teller in Kirkwall.” Riven stated, smirking.

“You flatter me, my friend!”

“Flattery well deserved! Tell Hawke, here, about the Bann of Lean!”

“Pah, that’s an old tale! Boring by now, it’s so oft repeated!”

“It’s classic! Just the thing we need tonight! Regale us, serah, or I’ll set the lady on you!”

Marion found herself laughing at their antics, “Oh, no you don’t! You leave me out of this!” She said before drinking deeply into her cup.

“Well, how about the flute player and the queen?”

“Alright, alright!” The dwarf laughed and drank from his glass, “No shit, there I was…” Marion stifled a giggle.

She tried to pay attention to the story as she drank, nodding in all the right parts and laughing at the best times, but her thoughts kept drifting. She kept jumping at every sudden noise and movement. Her thoughts skittered around the memories of her stolen…no, _sold_ , virginity.

She had been violated but by her own permission. _Damn Athenril_ , she thought angrily. _If she had just honored the agreement. Damn Bethany for-_ No. She couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t Bethany’s fault.

“So then, Barka say’s ‘I certainly didn’t expect to see you here… especially wearing that! Is wearing pink lacy small clothes over your trousers a new fashion trend in Orlais?’ I have never seen a dwarf turn so red in the face in my entire life!”

She forced a grin and called for another tankard. She was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.

“Your Majesty!’ he said as he bowed. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t see you there!”

The next hour passed in a whirl of alcohol and Varric’s fine story weaving. Marion found herself getting drawn into his increasingly outrageous tales and out of her somber mood, though she was till steadily drinking ale. She found she liked her new acquaintance. He had a sharp wit and an even sharper sense of humor. Finally, the dwarf brought out the cards and the two men attempted to teach her the finer points of diamondback.

“How the hell did you manage to get the Angel of Death and two serpents?” Riven laughed, astounded at the women’s luck.

“I’m jus’ tha’ good.” She slurred a bit, smirking.

“She means she’s cheating.” Varric chuckled. “Pretty damned well, too. I didn’t even see her palm the card.

“You know nothin’, my good Ser!” Marion declared with a delighted grin on her face. She’d just won a sovereign each from the both of them. She cackled a bit but found herself listing to the right in her chair. “I thin’ it’s time for bed.” She nodded dizzily.

“I’d say you’re right.” The dwarf drawled. “When you can’t even sit straight, it’s time to give in.”

“G’nigh’ Varri’. Riv’.” She attempted to stand but nearly fell over. The two men shared an amused glance before they rose and made to help her up. She protested, verbally, but they eventually managed to get her up the stairs and delivered to her room. “Riv’?” She asked as they pulled the coverlet over her.

“Yes, Hawke?”

“Wha’ was I tryn’ to forget? I onl’ drink when I wan’ to forget somethin’."

The man froze and turned a worried gaze on the young women. “I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“Good.” She nodded decisively. “The’ I did a good job.”

“As you say, Hawke.” He made to leave again.

“Riv’?”

Stifling a chuckle, “Yes?” Varric just smirked at him.

“I thin’ I mi’ do somethin’ stupid. Li’e tr’ an’ kill Athenri’.” That caught both men’s attention.

“I doubt anyone would blame you.” The older man said.

“She’s done somethin’ unforgivable” Dwarf and man shared a glance.

“What’s she done, Hawke?”

Marion shook her head. “Can’ say. Don’ wan’ Bethan’ to know.”

“I won’t tell your sister, Marion, I promise.” Riven hoped the use of her first name would draw an answer.

“Can’ say… Woul’ you help me kill Athenri’ if I asked?”

“I would. You can always count on me, Marion.”

“Thanks, Riv’.” With that, she drifted off to sleep.

Varric and Riven looked to each other, bemused mostly, but worried. They knew that whatever had happened in the last three days had been bad, judging by the bruises and their conversation just now. Together, they withdrew from the room to talk privately.

**oOo*oOo**

A loud knock woke Marion from her alcohol induced sleep. She grumbled and turned over, aiming to ignore it. The noise came again. She sat up and immediately groaned as her stomach rolled and a piercing ache stabbed at her brain. After a moment, she shouted, _“Bugger off!”_ at whoever was outside the door. She then allowed herself to fall back onto the bed and groaned again.

“Come on, Hawke, it’s just me.” Riven’s voice floated through the portal.

Marion groaned, “Fine,” and attempted to stand. The world spun and her stomach attempted a revolt. She swallowed a few times to quell it before warily walking over to the door and opening it.

“You don’t look so good.” The man stated, a smirk firmly planted on his face.

 “If you just woke me to insult me, you can leave.” She growled, showing some of her normal fire that had been missing the night before.

“Now don’t be like that.” He chided softly, “I’ve brought you a present.” Riven held up a tankard of water to show her.

Marion took the glass gratefully and drank greedily, ignoring the damnable smirk still spread across the man’s lips. “Oh, fine, you’re a fantastic friend.” She mumbled after she had drained the liquid.

He chuckled, “Come on. Wash your face and join Varric and me for breakfast.” She grimaced but did as bid and a few minutes later they were seated in their same spots from the night before. Another tankard of water was sat in front of her, a pitcher left on the table, and she was nursing it slowly as she watched the two mean dig into a hearty Kirkwall breakfast.

Her stomach rolled but she tenaciously held on and turned her gaze to the rest of the tavern. It was significantly less crowded than it had been the previous night… and quieter, something she was very thankful for. Marion thought glumly that most of the customers had the good sense to still be in bed at this time and sleeping off the aftereffects of their revelry.

Varric, having been watching her, chuckled a bit and slid a small plate with a couple of pieces of toast across the table. “Here. Eat something light. You’ll feel better.”

Marion sent him a poisonous glare but knew he was right. Sulkily, she nibbled on the toast. After a few moments, her stomach calmed a little more and she continued to drink her water.

The dwarf broke the silence again, “Why don’t you sip on one of your health potions?” He nodded to her belt, absently noticing two were gone. “That should clean up the rest of those bruises as well as your hangover.”

“Can’t.” She shook her head, shrugged and finished her toast.

The men waited for her to elaborate but she merely refilled her tankard. Riven prodded her, “Why not?”

She looked down and shrugged again.

Varric’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean ‘cannot’ or ‘will not’?”

Marion glared at him, _why the hell are they pushing so hard about this?_ “Cannot.”

“There are… only two reasons I can think of that would be cause for that statement. One of them is an allergy to the potions themselves, which is obviously not the case.” The dwarf said, nodding again to her belt, “The other is that you’ve already had too many healing potions and taking that one could lessen the effectiveness of the previous ones.”

She just looked away, confirming his statement. Varric slowly released a deep breath, attempting to hide his sudden fury at someone injuring Hawke so grievously as she did not know his alter ego, but Riven held no such constraints. The man practically growled and clenched his fists, knuckles white from the force.

Marion winced, hastily drained her cup, and stood while muttering something about reporting in to Athenril. She quickly attempted to escape upstairs, but Riven rose as well and followed her. Varric stayed where he was, letting his anger ebb over him until it lowered to a manageable level. His imagination didn’t help. He couldn’t help but think of all the different ways someone could have hurt Hawke severely enough to need that many potions. _Someone would pay._

**o*o**

“What happened, Hawke?” Riven demanded as he followed her into her room and shut the door.

“It’s none of your business, Riven!” Marion hissed as she began to gather her meager belongings and strap on her armor. Her headache, which had been abating, had now returned full force.

“You’re right,” he affirmed, “it is not. I hold no claim upon your loyalty; however I do look to you as a daughter.” She gasped, startled, and he continued, “I’ve come to care for you as a daughter and I have no wish to see you harmed. Frankly, seeing you covered in bruises was enough to piss me off, but to find out that you’ve been even more severely injured… I have desperate desire to see those that hurt you covered in their own blood.” He finished with a growl.

Marian slowly sat down upon the bed, still processing his earlier declaration, “What?”

Riven’s gaze softened, “I see you as the daughter I never had, Marion. You’re loyal, brave, and caring. Your sharp wit and instincts have saved many of our men that Athenril’s plans would have seen dead over the last six months and I admire that more than you could imagine. Had I ever had children, I would have hoped to raise them to turn out just like you.”

Marian blinked back tears. Her own father had died six years previous, leaving Marion to take care of her siblings and mother. The thought that someone else would hold the same affection for her that Malcolm Hawke had was a weighty one and… oddly compelling. “So yes,” Riven said, “I care.” She nodded shakily.

“Now,” He walked over to her and gently laid a hand upon her shoulder before sitting down beside her, “I’m going to mention a few theories and you’re going to listen and tell me if I’m correct.” She shook her head but he was insistent, speaking over her protestations.

“I know it was more complicated than you being jumped by the coterie. If that had been the case, you’d be embarrassed and angry, but not refusing to speak about it. I know it has to do with Athenril because of what you mentioned last night.” Marion winced. She was mildly mortified about her behavior the previous night. It was not like her to be loose lipped even with so much alcohol.

“While it would be in her nature to see you beaten or tortured for your disrespect, despite the fact that it is well earned, she would not have stopped until she was sure you were broken. You would still be there were that the case because I know you would never have been broken so easily.”

“You’re not furious and revenge sighted, not at the forefront, at least. You’re wounded. Soul deep.” Riven paused, looking every inch his forty years, “Athenril had you raped.” Hawke flinched violently. Trust this man to figure it out with so few clues. “Oh, Marion.” The man sighed as he wrapped the woman in his arms.

Marion held herself stiffly for a few seconds before allowing herself the comfort of a friend. She relaxed into his arms and buried her face into his neck, truly giving in to the tears for the first time. After a few moments, she whispered, voice hoarse, “She _sold_ me, Riven.” Another sob, “She sold _Bethany_ but I wouldn’t let her.” Riven gently squeezed her. “I took her place.”

The man remained silent, letting the young woman vent her grief and pain. A few more minutes passed and her sobs dwindled to sniffs and she pulled away from him. “I’m sorry. I should not have… I won’t break down again. It was weak of me and you didn’t need to see that.”

Riven shook his head. “I offered. I’m here for you when you need me, Marion. I always will be.” His gaze hardened. “We’ll get her. I promise you that.”

The other rogue frantically shook her head, “I can’t. She holds too much power over my sister and me. The contracts, the… price for entry into Kirkwall… I just… I want to get through the next six months and never see the bitch again.”

He opened his mouth to argue the point but merely sighed and nodded, “As you say. If she tries anything like this again, though…”

Marion just shook her head and washed her face in the basin again. She didn’t speak as she readied herself, just buckled the rest of her armor and gathered her pack, tying the brown-red strip of cloth around her wrist before covering it with her sleeve. Finally ready, she looked to Riven.

“I have to go… report into her. I’m sure she has something else for me to do.” Bitterness laced her tone.

“As do I.” The man said, his stance firmly indicating he _would_ accompany her, and the two of them left the Hanged Man in silent companionship.

 

**oOoOo*oOoOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um... yeah. Constructive criticism is definitely appreciated as well as any error spotting. I'm rather working blind here without a beta.
> 
> I agonized a bit over the scenes with Riven and Varric and I'm still not sure I made the right choice, but too late now.
> 
> As far as Riven figuring it out on his own, he's very observant and intuitive. I like to think he talked through his reasoning pretty well, but if you think he's missed something please let me know.
> 
> I figured I'd address this now: The part about her being missing for five days is cumulative. The first day was the day she was taken to the house, she spent three days there, and then the final day when she was released equals five days. I honestly had to stop and do the math, myself, when I realized she had technically been missing to everyone else for longer than the servant had said she had been there.
> 
> I'm not quite done beating Marion up, forgive me. Nothing else should be quite as bad as this, though.


End file.
